No More Talking
by Hot elf
Summary: Loghain wanted to sacrifice himself to save Ferelden - but Rosalyn Cousland would have none of it. Now that the Blight is over, what will become of the two of them? Prequel/back story to "A Rose in Winter".


**No More Talking**

The Archdemon reared on its hind legs with a mighty roar, its spiky tail swinging like a scythe to mow down a row of elven archers. Loghain cursed when a blast of flame and hot air missed him by inches, but he stood his ground and kept hacking at the beast's hamstrings. They had been fighting for what felt like hours, desperately throwing everything they had at their foe. The dragon's huge wings were torn and its flanks pierced by countless arrows, yet it showed no sign of exhaustion.

Blinking away the sweat running into his eyes, he was lifting his blade for another blow, when the huge head snapped around, too fast for him to jump out of the way. A gaping maw of teeth opened right next to him, and then everything was pain, excruciating, horrible pain. He was only dimly aware of the waves of healing washing over him, Wynne trying her best to keep him alive until the monster let him go. He was close to fainting when he heard Rosalyn cry out in pain and rage. From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement up the dragon's neck. Then he lost consciousness.

When he awoke, Rosalyn was bending over him, his head placed in her lap. The Archdemon lay dead, Rosalyn's two daggers firmly embedded in its skull.

"Loghain." There was no mistaking the relief in her voice. "Thank the Maker, you're alive. It worked. The ritual worked. The Archdemon is gone."

She disappeared from sight and Wynne took her place, her face lined with exhaustion. "Let me see what I can do for you."

* * *

"Why are you out here, all alone? Everyone is looking for you. "

Loghain sighed. _Rose._ Of course she would come looking for him. He had sneaked out during the victory celebrations, unable to deal with the joy, the laughter, the words of praise and gratitude directed at them. He'd thought no one would notice his absence, now that they all were well into their cups.

But here she was, looking at him with a mixture of worry and irritation. "What is it, Loghain? Why won't you join us? You're their hero, just as much as I am."

Loghain made no attempt to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "I'm no one's hero. I should have died today, and you know it."

Rosalyn shook her head. "No. They need you. Ferelden needs you."

_And here we go again_. She had said the same when she had persuaded him to lie with the witch for her sinister ritual. He had wished for an end, nothing more, but Rosalyn had insisted she needed him alive. _The Loghain I knew before the Blight wouldn't choose to die. Not when there is so much to do, not while he is needed._

"That's why you let me live? Despite everything I've done?" he scoffed.

Rosalyn's face softened and she stepped closer to him, giving him a searching look. "There may be another reason."

Raising on tiptoes, she breathed a feather light kiss against his lips. Before he could recover enough to speak, she had already turned back and opened the door, calling back over her shoulder. "Come on, Loghain. We're waiting for you."

* * *

Eight days later he stepped into the library to find Rosalyn bent over a thick volume of strategic treatises. She was so engrossed she didn't notice him straight away and he took advantage of the fact to study her face, her brow deeply furrowed in concentration. Her words, her kiss had been on his mind every day, but he didn't know what to make of them. Surely she had been jesting, teasing him to take his mind off darker topics?

She was so young, so beautiful. He couldn't take his eyes off the slim line of her shoulders, the long line of her neck. He heard her utter an impatient sigh as she turned a page and chuckled to himself. _That's just like Rose._ She was an able strategist, but the theory bored her.

Rosalyn must have heard the tiny noise, for her head spun around and a frown appeared on her face. He turned to leave, but it was too late. She had already seen him.

"Loghain!" It was almost a command, and sheer force of habit made him stop in his tracks. "Oh, no, you are not leaving." Her face was determined as she walked over to him. "You've been avoiding me for over a week, and we need to talk."

Loghain shook his head, his face stony. "What is there to talk about?"

"You know exactly what I mean!" She had caught up with him and took hold of his wrist.

"I don't want to talk about it!" His hand went up to free himself, but she twisted around and suddenly, without quite knowing how it had happened, he held her in his arms, and his lips met hers. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then he claimed her mouth, unable to resist. Rosalyn melted into the kiss with a sigh and he deepened it, tasting her greedily, drowning in her. _So sweet, so warm, so willing. _His hands tangled in her hair and he pulled her close, trembling with want. It was like a fever, a sudden tingling all over his body that made him feel utterly alive and slightly faint at the same time.

When he came to his senses, he pushed her back, but he misjudged his strength, confounded by this sudden onslaught of feelings, and she tumbled back onto a low settee. Seeing her like this, sprawled at his feet, panting, her lips swollen and rosy from his kiss, he came within inches of losing control. He _wanted_ her, oh Maker, how he wanted her!

Taking his refuge in anger, he flashed a furious gaze at her. "Blight it, Rose! What do you think you're doing? There are plenty of young men who can make you happier than I ever could. I'm more than twice your age, and I'm damaged and broken in more ways than one. What do you want from me?"

Rose looked up at him for a long moment, her face unreadable. Then, to his amazement, she threw her head back and laughed, a clear, high, happy sound. "Oh, Maker! Loghain MacTir, if you could only see yourself. Here you are, telling me you are old and halfway to your grave, but look at you!"

Her eyes wandered all over his lean, powerful body, clad in dark leathers, up to his face, flushed with rage, his icy blue eyes, the thick, black hair. "Half the girls in Ferelden would kill to have a man like you in their bed."

She got up in a fast, fluid motion and suddenly was right before him, so close her breasts were brushing against his chest. Her eyes held his, and her voice dropped to a smooth, purring note. "Including myself."

She kissed him, just a brief peck, and then she was gone. Loghain leaned back against a bookshelf, rubbing his eyes and sighing deeply. His life had just gotten a lot more complicated.

* * *

That night he had already gone to bed, when he heard a faint noise from the direction of the window. _Someone fiddling with the latch._ He frowned. A burglar, here in the palace? Silently he moved over to the window and as soon as it opened, he grabbed the intruder, slamming the slim body firmly against the wall.

For a moment, he was confused by the lack of resistance, but then he took in the golden hair, the sweet face full of mischief, and his eyes widened in surprise.

"Rose! What are you-" She was wearing nothing but a shift, he realized, and the feel of her trim, taut body under his hands had him instantly hard.

"Loghain." She arched up into his touch, moaning when she felt him through the thin linen pants he wore. "You said there should be no more talking."

This time, when her lips touched his, he knew there would be no going back. He kissed her as if his life depended upon it, deeply and hungrily, revelling in her sweet taste and the small, needy sounds she made. Without letting go of her, he stumbled backwards until his legs hit the edge of the bed and he sat down, burying his face between her breasts, breathing in her scent. She laughed with delight and sank down on his lap, straddling him. Stretching gracefully, she pulled her shift over her head without further ado.

Loghain swallowed hard at the sudden sight of her bare body, all rosy, soft skin, her pert nipples straining for his touch. Lying back, he caressed her slowly, almost reverently, never taking his gaze off her face. Rosalyn made a tiny, mewling sound when his thumb circled her nipple, and her eyes closed in pleasure.

"Don't stop. Please don't stop." She sounded breathless, and Maker, she was _begging_ him to go on! As if he possibly could have stopped now.

With a long, shuddering sigh, he rolled over with her, lowering her to the sheets with exquisite care, and let his hands wander all over her body. She felt so good, she was so beautiful, but what excited him most was the way she responded to him. Every touch of his lips and hands sent shivers all over her body, made her gasp and moan and beg for more. He became less cautious, touched her more firmly, slowly slid a hand between her legs to find her wet heat, and was rewarded with another high-pitched mewl.

"Loghain..." Her face was flushed and she pushed herself up into his hand, whimpering when he slid a finger inside her. "Please. I need you."

He pushed a little deeper, added another finger and felt her open up for him, pulsing, slick with want. His arousal had become almost painful, and he couldn't wait any longer. Moving between her legs, he bit his lip, summoning all his discipline to keep it slow and gentle. But when she felt him nudging against her entrance, Rosalyn met his careful thrust eagerly, spreading her legs wide, drawing him deep inside her. He almost lost control then, surrounded tightly by her warmth, overwhelmed by feelings he had denied himself for so long. Yet he somehow managed to stop once they were fully joined, to open his eyes and meet her gaze.

The sensation hit him so hard he almost forgot how to breathe. Never before had he felt such an utter sense of completion. Oh, he had loved before, passionately, fiercely even, but this feeling of being whole, this was new. New and special and unexpected.

Rosalyn smiled up at him, her face so full of love that it almost scared him. "Loghain."

It was a mere sigh, soft and happy, and then she shifted below him and his body followed hers of its own accord. Without any conscious effort they fell into a rhythm, so naturally that it was easy to lose himself, to stop thinking. They moved in harmony, their tempo increasing almost imperceptibly, their breaths getting faster, the tension building in a perfect curve until they both cried out, within moments of each other, her body wrapped tightly around his.

He couldn't let go of her afterwards, holding on to her, almost smothering her with his weight until she pushed him on his back with a small, breathless laugh, and snuggled up in the crook of his arm. Her trembling fingers traced slow, lazy patterns on his chest, mapping his scars, both old and new, acquainting herself with each ridge of muscle, each patch of hair. Loghain closed his eyes, enjoying the heavy feeling of bliss spreading all through his body. _Peace._

He didn't know what would become of this, didn't know whether he would truly be able to give her what she needed. But right here and now, it was all good.

* * *

_Many thanks to zevgirl for helping me out again. You're a treasure! _


End file.
